


Gravity

by _Melodic_ (Sae)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bars and Pubs, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bookstores, Boys Kissing, Butterbeer, Clubbing, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Crushes, Dancing, Desire, Dinner, Dirty Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Dreams, Drinking, Dry Humping, Eventual Happy Ending, First Dates, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Food Porn, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Frottage, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Grinding, Gryffindor Common Room, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Holidays, Jealous Harry, Jealousy, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light-Hearted, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mistletoe, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, POV Harry Potter, Pining, Post Hogwarts AU, Post-Hogwarts, Restaurants, Rimming, Sexual Fantasy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sweet, Tie Kink, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wet Dream, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 12,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sae/pseuds/_Melodic_
Summary: Harry hasn't seen Malfoy in nearly two years--not since that thwarted kiss during Eighth year. When he stumbles across him working at a bookshop, his whole world is turned upside down. How does he deal with all these feelings that have come rushing back to the surface? And what about the pesky matter of Malfoy's new boyfriend?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a chaptered story with 25 parts that will be updated daily all month. It is part of the slythindor100's 25 days of Harry and Draco challenge.  
> All my love to Kerrilee for the beta.

The winter wind is cruel, frigid and biting but Harry just burrows his face into his scarf and soldiers on. Last year he left his holiday shopping to the last minute and he refuses to repeat the stress of that ordeal again. 

Harry’s already purchased most of the Weasleys’ gifts but he has yet to find the perfect item for Hermione. As if the universe is privy to his thoughts, he stumbles across a brightly lit bookshop. The windows shine with warm, glowing lamps and a large banner hangs over the door: _Grand Opening, All Books Half Off_. 

Harry pushes open the heavy oak door, sighing in relief as a gust of warm air wraps around him. The shop is bustling; numerous patrons chat animatedly as various clerks assist them. There are several overstuffed armchairs, tall shelves overflowing with books and impressive paper sculptures littered upon the mismatched tables. Harry’s eyes, however, are immediately drawn to the shock of white-blond hair at the front desk. That pale hair—so vivid it nearly looks unnatural—is alarmingly familiar. Harry's mouth goes dry as the young man’s face turns, his sharp features in clear view. Pointy chin, pronounced cheek bones, smooth skin and striking grey eyes. It couldn’t be… could it?

_Merlin._

“Malfoy?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a continuous story with 25 parts (updated daily) written for Slythindor100's 25 days of Harry and Draco.  
> Thank you to Kerrilee for the beta!

Harry hasn't seen Malfoy in nearly two years, not since they both left Hogwarts. 

He remembers how surprised he had been to discover Malfoy had returned for their Eighth year. Malfoy had been subdued and kept mostly to himself, but by the holidays he slowly started to reach out to other students. After a rather awkward and stilted apology to Ron, Hermione and himself, Harry began to make an effort to be warmer to Malfoy. Civility turned into friendship. By the time the Eighth years threw a holiday party before winter break, Harry and Malfoy were laughing and drinking, sitting closely together by the common room fireplace. 

They stayed up far past the time everyone else finally retreated to their rooms, chatting about anything and everything. It was strange how well they got along without the War, misguided family loyalties and tragic prophecies looming over their heads. 

Malfoy stood up, drunkenly stumbling against Harry as he made his way towards the door. Malfoy’s body was warm against his, his fingers firm as they curled around Harry's bicep. 

Harry can't remember who spotted it first but with a burst of laughter they both pointed to the mistletoe that floated above their heads. The laughter soon died on their lips and Harry's heart pounded at the heated look in Malfoy’s eyes. 

Harry nervously licked his lips, his eyes trained on Malfoy's full, pink ones before leaning in. Malfoy tasted like butterbeer, sweet and sharp. Harry's pulse quickened, hands trembling as Malfoy opened his mouth and slid his tongue against Harry's. The curl of desire in Harry's stomach was intense, bright and hot as it swept through the rest of his body. Malfoy's hand tangled into Harry's hair, gripping tightly before abruptly letting go. He pulled back, eyes wide in shock and pale face beautifully flushed. 

“Oh,” Malfoy murmured softly. “That—”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

“We must be drunker than we thought,” Malfoy chuckled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“Right,” Harry replied dumbly, his lips still tingling from the kiss.

“I should go.” Malfoy stumbled backwards, all but running as he left the room.

Harry touched his lips in stunned wonderment before slowly walking to his dorm and climbing into his bed. The next day neither of them brought up the kiss and Harry merely dismissed it as a drunken mistake. Still, he couldn’t look at Malfoy the same after that night and the blond often featured in his dreams. Their delicate and growing friendship, however, turned rather awkward. They still remained cordial but the closeness that was building between the two vanished overnight. 

Last Harry had heard, Malfoy was traveling and no one had seen him in England for a long time. Not until now that is.

“Potter?” Malfoy’s voice is mildly exasperated and it shakes Harry free from his memories. “How can I help you today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Kudos/Comments = <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 3 of a continuous story with 25 parts. It will be updated daily.

“Er, hi. Right.” Harry internally cringes at how stupid he must sound, but Malfoy just smirks playfully in return. “I’m looking for a book.”

“Is that so?” Malfoy asks, arching a pale eyebrow. His voice is smug but his face is full of humour. “I imagine you came to the right place.”

Harry offers a small smile in return, meanwhile his heart pounds wildly against his chest. He didn’t expect to run into Malfoy at a bookshop, let alone find him employed at one. Not that Malfoy hasn’t been on his mind the past year or so. He’s often wondered where Malfoy might be traveling and what he’s been up to. It feels nearly surreal to see Malfoy standing right before him. Merlin, he looks just as gorgeous as he did in school, all glowing pale hair and smoky grey eyes. He quickly averts his gaze from Malfoy’s full, pink lips and studies a paper model of Big Ben on the front desk.

“I’m trying to find a gift for Hermione,” Harry explains, clearing his throat and stepping closer. “I was thinking of picking up the newest collection of essays from Miranda Goshawk.”

“Ah, yes.” Malfoy grins warmly and Harry’s stomach flips at the sight. “That’s been very popular this season. We’re out at the moment, but if you want to try coming back in a few days, we should have it in stock again.”

“Great,” Harry replies, still struggling with the shock of seeing Malfoy again after all this time. “I’ll do that.”

“Here, take our card.” Malfoy holds out a colourful slip of paper and Harry reaches out to grab it. Their fingers brush in the exchange and sparks travel across Harry’s skin. “Come back soon.”

Harry nods, swallows roughly and races out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 4 of a chaptered story with 25 parts. It will be updated daily throughout December.  
> Thanks to Kerrilee for the beta!

“Would you like some more marshmallows, Harry?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Hm, suit yourself,” Luna hums, topping her cocoa with a handful of fluffy, white marshmallows. “It’s good to see you. You haven’t stopped by in some time.”

“Sorry,” Harry replies abashedly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. “Work has kept me super busy.”

“Have they sent you out in the field yet?”

“Nope,” Harry mutters dejectedly. “Still got Ron and me on paperwork.”

“Hm, I’m sure you’ll get a case soon.” Luna takes a sip from her steaming mug. “How have you been otherwise?”

“Good,” Harry says slowly before nonchalantly adding, “Did you know Malfoy’s back in England? I ran into him at the new bookshop on Horizont Alley.”

“Did you?” Luna asks, her eyes taking on a knowing gleam.

“Yeah, it was… really disconcerting.” Harry chews on his lip. “I mean, I haven’t seen him in ages and suddenly he just shows up out of nowhere.”

“You don’t think he’s up to something, do you?” Luna’s tone is innocent but her face is lit up with mischief.

“No,” Harry quickly replies, flushing. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Surprised doesn’t even begin to explain it. Harry spent the rest of the day walking around in a daze until he finally forced himself to go home. Once he arrived to the quiet of his flat, however, all the feelings he had been repressing for so long came flooding back. 

He missed Malfoy. It hardly made sense, they never had the chance to get all that close, and yet Harry sorely felt his absence. Harry thought about him constantly. His heart stuttered whenever he caught a glimpse of blond hair, thinking it might be Malfoy. When he’d go out to a club and pull, dance and snog a handsome bloke, his mind would always drift to Malfoy. He’d vividly recall the warmth of Malfoy’s mouth, the feel his wet tongue against Harry’s. Remember those slender fingers tangling—

“Oh, Harry!” Luna exclaims excitedly. “Just look at your aura.”

“My what?”

“Your aura! It’s positively glowing.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I think you should go back,” Luna murmurs dreamily.

“Huh?” Harry furrows his brow in confusion. “Where?”

“To the bookshop, of course.” Luna sighs contentedly and pops a marshmallow in her mouth. “To Draco.”

Harry nods his head and drinks the rest of his cocoa in silence. He’s not sure he’d be able to stay away if he tried.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chaptered fiction with 25 parts that will be updated daily. Thank you to Kerrilee for the beta!

The shop is a bit less crowded when Harry arrives the next morning. He spots Malfoy right away, busy helping a customer reach a book on the highest shelf. Malfoy’s jumper rides up as he stretches to grab the book, exposing a thin line of skin along his back. Harry swallows roughly and forces himself to look away. He waits patiently by the front desk until Malfoy turns around, eyes brightening as he catches sight of Harry.

“Welcome back,” he greets warmly.

“Hi,” Harry replies, unable to hide a smile.

“What _is_ that?” Malfoy asks, looking Harry up and down with wide eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“That jumper.” Malfoy tries but fails to stifle a laugh.

“Oh.” Harry flushes as he looks down. Why didn’t he pay attention to what he was wearing before he left his flat? “It was a gift.”

“Really?” Malfoy arches an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Harry mumbles. “From Ron.”

“Ah, figures.”

“What does that mean?” Harry frowns.

“It’s rather crass,” Malfoy replies wryly.

“It’s—,” Harry protests. “Yeah I guess it is.” Harry chuckles softly before sobering up. “Er, Malfoy?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Working,” Malfoy replies, playfully rolling his eyes.

“You know what I mean.” Harry crosses his arms stubbornly. “Where have you been?”

“Around.” Malfoy shrugs his shoulders. Harry’s frown only deepens. “Fine, fine. I was in Berlin last and before that, Paris.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“I got tired of traveling, of moving place to place. Don’t get me wrong—I loved all the cities I visited but… none of them felt like home.” Malfoy smiles softly. “It’s nice to be back.”

“And now you work here? Did all the traveling deplete your funds?”

“Please, Potter,” Malfoy scoffs. “The Ministry only took a quarter of the Malfoy fortune for War reparations. I doubt I’d ever have to work again.”

“So why do you?” Harry asks, interest piqued.

“I like it here.” Malfoy’s lips curl into that soft smile again. “I’ve always loved books and when I saw this place was hiring… well, I just don’t like to be idle.”

“I can understand that.” Harry has plenty in his vault to keep him comfortable without ever working again, but living in that kind of leisure doesn’t appeal to him at all.

“I bet you can.” Malfoy’s eyes bore into Harry’s—bright grey clouds on a winter day. Harry returns the stare, his heart twisting in that familiar way.

“Anyway.” Malfoy clears his throat after a beat. “We got that book back in stock.”

“Oh, right.” 

“Let me grab it for you.”

Harry watches Malfoy’s retreating back, the soft way his hair curls at his nape, the way his tailored trousers perfectly accent his arse. He so badly wants to see Malfoy again—not for a brief interaction at his job—but for hours, chatting and drinking, laughing and catching up. Would it be so crazy to ask him for a drink after work?

“You’re in luck, Potter.” Malfoy appears with a book in his hand and a wide grin on his face. “Last one.”

“They really _are_ popular,” Harry mumbles, steeling his nerves. “So, er… Malfoy?”

“Yes?” Malfoy raises his eyebrows, his eyes soft and questioning. Harry’s breath catches in his throat.

“Well, I was wondering if—”

“Draco, it’s almost time for our break.” A young man hurries over behind the desk, throwing an arm around Malfoy’s shoulders and pulling him close. He’s got perfectly straight teeth, warm brown eyes and stylish dirty blond hair. Harry hates him on sight. “Where should we go to lunch today?”

“Can’t we just order in?” Malfoy sighs.

“No.” The young man pouts. “Come on, darling. You never take me out on real dates anymore.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Malfoy mutters before his gaze snaps back to Harry, as if he forget he was even there. “Potter, this is Kyle, my co-worker.”

“More like the love of his life,” Kyle preens, holding out his hand to greet Harry. Malfoy rolls his eyes in reply but doesn’t refute the fact. Harry grips Kyle’s hand and shakes, hard, fighting the sick feeling twisting in his stomach. “Nice to meet you.”

“Right, likewise.” Harry feels dizzy and foolish. Of course Malfoy has a boyfriend.

“What were you going to ask, Potter?”

“Oh.” Harry feels a renewed sense of embarrassment wash over him. “Nothing. I—I don’t remember.” Harry’s eyes fall to Kyle’s arm, still draped over Malfoy’s shoulder. “I have to go.”

Harry turns around and flees. Malfoy’s startled goodbye drifts out the door as Harry rushes into the cold, busy street.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 6 of 25 a chaptered story that will be updated daily throughout December. Thank you to Kerrilee for the beta!

_The halls are dark and quiet—the only sound is the clacking of Harry’s shoes against the stone floor and the roar of blood rushing through his ears. His heart pounds against his chest and his breath catches in his throat. He can’t quite make out what’s chasing him but he knows he’s not alone. He can feel the dark energy thrumming against his skin, taste the terror in the air. He continues to run until he reaches the end of the corridor and comes face to face with a locked door. He spins around and weakly casts his Patronus, only a few feeble silvery wisps escaping from his wand. There’s no escape. How can he protect anyone when he can hardly save himself?_

_The door opens behind him and suddenly Harry’s falling. His stomach flips at the sensation but he’s soon surrounded by a comforting warmth and his body floats pleasantly through golden light. He lands softly, feet connecting with a plush carpet. A fire crackles in the room, glowing bright and casting shadows along the crimson furniture. He knows this place, he’s been here before._

_“Potter.”_

_Harry spins around and finds Malfoy smiling at him, his arms outstretched and waiting. Harry steps into the embrace, burrowing his nose into Malfoy’s fine hair. He’s wearing the exact same clothing from that night, he even smells the same—a mixture of butterbeer, grass and citrus. How did they wind up here?_

_“Don’t concern yourself with that.” Malfoy’s laugh is soft and playful. “You’re okay now, I’m here.”_

_“Malfoy—” Harry begins, but he’s cut off by Malfoy’s mouth._

_Harry surrenders to the kiss, parting his lips and meeting Malfoy’s warm tongue. His body shivers with sensation. He feels light, as if they both are floating away. He opens his eyes a crack to find that they are—their surroundings are fading away as they drift to some other plane. They’re off to some other dimension, some other reality where the kiss didn’t end with an awkward farewell. No, this kiss continued for eternity until Harry can’t tell where he ends and Malfoy begins._

_Harry becomes aroused and he presses his body against Malfoy, delighted when the pressure is returned. He can feel the heavy weight of Malfoy’s erection against his thigh and his cock twitches with approval. His hands slide down Malfoy’s back to cup his arse, squeezing and pulling Malfoy closer. Malfoy is rutting against him now, panting in his mouth, sweet sounds escaping his lips. The tension builds in Harry’s groin. He’s so close, so very close now. His cock pulses, sparks of sensation traveling from his scalp and down his spine, white hot pleasure building and ready to explode._

_“Malfoy!”_

Harry wakes with a start, his chest heaving and his breath coming in short gasps. His skin is sweat-soaked and his body shivers against the cool air in his dark room. With a groan Harry pushes away his sheets, sticky and wet where his cock still throbs in the aftermath.

He spells the mess clean and conjures a glass of water, drinking the cool liquid in a futile attempt to soothe his dry throat. The moon is still high in the sky and dawn many hours away but Harry remains awake as he stares at the ceiling with a heavy heart.


	7. Chapter 7

A few flurries fall from the sky, twirling in the gentle breeze before landing softly on the cobbled ground. Harry blinks away a few flakes that land on his lashes and continues strolling through Diagon Alley. The streets are festive as the holidays draw closer; shops are brimming with decorations, red and green ornaments hanging from the windows.

He’s so distracted by the intricate, sparkling floating snitch display at Quality Quidditch Supplies that he runs right into a warm, solid body.

“Excuse me,” Harry stutters embarrassedly, straightening himself up. “Sorry about that.”

“Potter?” Malfoy’s lips curl into a smirk. “Clumsy as ever I see.”

“Malfoy,” Harry exhales. “Hi.”

“Hello yourself.” Malfoy’s warm smile chases away the winter chill in a heartbeat.

“Where’re you headed?”

“Back to my flat. It was slow at the shop today so I got sent home early.”

“Oh.” Harry slowly digests the information. “Your flat? You don’t live at the Manor anymore?”

“No.” Malfoy’s voice is cold and his eyes turn hard. “I haven’t lived there since after the War. It’s not exactly a pleasant place to be.”

“No, I’d imagine it isn’t.” Harry starkly recalls his own experience there, trapped in the dungeons as Hermione was tortured. He pushes down the bitterness rising in his throat. “Where do you live now?”

“Just a couple streets away.” Malfoy gestures down the road. “I found a suitable flat above The Hopping Pot.”

“Oh.” Harry fidgets nervously with his scarf. “I could walk you home if you like.”

“Such a gentleman,” Malfoy teases, but he nods his head in assent and begins walking down the street.

“So…” Harry trails off, suddenly feeling awkward and unable to start a conversation.

“Yes?”

“Uh, have you seen any friends since you’ve come back?”

“A few.” Malfoy blows into his hands and shoves them into his pockets. “Pansy’s living in Paris right now, so I stayed with her a bit when I was there and Blaise had me over for some drinks the other week.”

“How was that?” Harry tries but fails to not be mesmerised by the way Malfoy’s nose turns pink from the cold.

“Really nostalgic, actually. We played chess, drank butterbeer and reminisced about our time at Hogwarts.”

“Butterbeer, huh?” Harry chuckles softly. “So adolescent.”

“Hey,” Malfoy protests. “I recall you being rather fond of it just a couple years ago.” Harry attempts to laugh in reply but the sound gets caught in his throat. Memories of the last time they drank a few butterbeers together rush in and leave him breathless. Malfoy is looking rather serious himself. “Do you remember—”

“Yes,” Harry rushes out. He swallows roughly. “I do.”

“That was an interesting night.” Malfoy smiles, his expression fond and faraway. “It was the first time I ever kissed a bloke.”

“Me too,” Harry admits.

“We were really drunk,” Malfoy says firmly, though more to himself than Harry.

“I wasn’t _that_ drunk,” Harry blurts out.

“Oh.” Malfoy’s face flushes bright pink, his lips curving into a small smile.

They walk in silence for the next few minutes, the air heavy and crackling with tension.

“This is my place.” Malfoy stops in front of a bright red door, vibrant against the faded bricks.

Harry can’t stop staring at Malfoy’s lips. They’re wet and shiny where Malfoy’s tongue just darted out to lick them, full and pink just as Harry remembered. Malfoy’s eyes lock with his—soft and searching—causing Harry’s breath to quicken. They’re standing so close, all Harry would need to do is lean in and they’d be kissing. Just move an inch forward and he could feel that pliable mouth against his. Want and fear dance inside Harry’s chest and with a heavy sigh he takes a step back.

“I better get going.”

“Right.” Malfoy nods his head in agreement though Harry’s certain he sees a flash of disappointment in those grey eyes. “Thanks for walking me home. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”

Harry watches, chest constricted with longing, as Malfoy smiles once more before stepping inside and closing the door.


	8. Chapter 8

Try as he might, Harry simply cannot get Malfoy off his mind. He features nightly in Harry’s dreams, pops up in his head during the day, and any glimpse of pale, blond hair on the street sets Harry’s heart racing.

Harry was certain he pushed most of those feelings away once Malfoy disappeared. Sure, he thought of the other young man from time to time, but for the most part he was in control of his growing obsession. Now that Malfoy has returned to England, the longing and the desire— _everything_ —has come rushing back.

Harry approaches the hidden entrance to the club—a bright red telephone booth—and hastily steps inside. The club is loud, the drinks overpriced and Harry—more often than not—wakes up with a killer hangover, but this place might be the best distraction he’s got. Anything is better than uselessly pining after Malfoy night and day.

The secret door appears and Harry steps inside, instantly hit with a wave of humid heat and the scent of syrupy liquor and sex. The club is packed tonight, shirtless men grinding against each other on the dance floor while others snog in dark corners. Music blares from all sides, the bass vibrating through the floor and traveling into Harry’s body. He needs a drink.

An exuberant amount of Galleons later, and Harry is leaning against the wall and sipping a very strong cocktail. He eyes the crowd, mostly disinterested, until he spots a slender young man on the dance floor. He has bright blond hair, pale skin and a wicked smile. Harry hurries to finish his drink before walking towards him. He feels the alcohol travel through his veins and thrum just below the surface, much like the pounding music against his body.

“Hi,” Harry shouts over the crowd.

“Hi, yourself,” the pretty blond replies, looking Harry up and down.

“Do you want to dance?” Harry asks, straining to be heard over the all the noise.

“Don’t ask.” The blond’s hands wrap around Harry’s waist and pull him close. He whispers breathily in Harry’s ear. “Just take.”

The young man’s teeth sink into his earlobe, nibbling gently before he begins to sway to the music. Harry’s cock stirs in interest and he follows the blond’s lead, moving along with the music vibrating against the sea of bodies. Harry’s not much of a dancer—but that doesn’t really matter—not when he’s had a drink and there’s a hot, firm body pressed against his.  
The young man is eager, gyrating his hips and pulling Harry closer. Harry’s growing erection grinds against the man’s thigh and the blond moans in response. His bare chest glows shades of purple and blue under the flashing lights and his nipples harden against the exposed air.

“You’re hot,” the blond murmurs against Harry’s neck, biting and sucking marks from his collarbone to his jaw.

Harry adjusts their positions and groans as his fully-hard cock rubs against the young man’s. There’s little room to hide much of anything in the super tight jeans that are painted on the blond’s long legs. His long prick is vivid through the denim and Harry ruts against him, delighting in the friction of their fabric-covered cocks.

Harry’s mouth meets his in a biting kiss, all teeth and fevered tongues. It’s wet and sloppy and not altogether unpleasant. The blond whimpers against Harry’s lips and it suddenly strikes Harry how wrong this all is. 

His hair, closer up, is more strawberry blond than anything else and his face far too rounded and soft. He doesn’t taste like butterbeer and sugar, doesn’t smell like grass and citrus. 

He’s not Malfoy.

Harry pulls away, ignoring the petulant protests from the young man. By the time Harry has stumbled to the entrance, the blond seems to have found a new dance partner anyway. 

The blast of cold from outside is welcome after the muggy heat of the club. Harry breathes in a great gulp of the wintry air and walks away. The frigid night clears his mind, chasing away the leftover buzz, and he’s left with only a sharp sense of longing and an ache that demands to be sated.


	9. Chapter 9

“I don’t see why we can’t use magic,” Ron moans as he sets down the tangled knot of lights.

“Because, Ron, I want to do it the Muggle way,” Hermione sniffs. “It’s nostalgic.”

“Fine,” Ron mutters, returning to his task. “Oi, Harry. See if you can start at the other end.”

Harry chuckles to himself, grabbing the string of lights and getting to work. Helping Hermione and Ron decorate the tree reminds him of being in school and studying for an exam with Hermione watching over them. He imagines that’s not quite what Hermione meant when she referred to the nostalgia of this activity. 

“How have you been, Harry?” Hermione asks, pulling out a box labeled _Ornaments: A-F_.

“Good,” Harry replies. “No complaints here.”

“Hmm,” Hermione hums non-committedly. “And how’s Malfoy?”

“What?” Harry’s heart skips a beat. “How should I know?”

“Harry.” Hermione narrows her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Ron asks suspiciously.

“I had tea with Luna the other day,” Hermione says lightly.

“Oh.” Harry swallows roughly. “Well, that sounds nice.”

“It was,” Hermione responds brightly. “She made these delicious gingerbread Nargles and we chatted about you and Malfoy.”

“What about Malfoy and Harry?” Ron protests before deeply frowning. “Wait, you never told me Luna made biscuits.”

“Anyway,” Hermione ignores Ron. “It was a very interesting conversation.”

“Hermione,” Harry warns.

“So, did you bring any biscuits home?” Ron asks hopefully.

“Harry,” Hermione sighs. “We aren’t in school anymore. You two need to end this dance you’ve been doing around each other for ages.”

“It’s not that simple,” Harry mutters.

“It can be,” Hermione says earnestly, smiling warmly at Harry. He’s not sure he completely agrees with her sentiment but he at least appreciates her vote of confidence.

“Wait,” Ron interjects. “Harry, you and Malfoy? Really?” Ron scrunches his nose, an incredulous expression forming over his face. 

“Ron—” Harry begins to explain.

“I’m going to the kitchen to grab some snacks.” Hermione stands up and brushes some tinsel off her lap. Ron’s head snaps towards her before he hastily returns his attention to Harry.

“Er, well… good luck with Malfoy I guess?” Ron says distractedly, tripping over himself to stand up and follow Hermione. “Wait, ‘Mione! Where did you hide those gingerbread biscuits?”


	10. Chapter 10

Harry stands in front the great oak doors of the bookshop and takes a steadying breath. He can do this, of course he can. He’s faced Dementors, Death Eaters, even Voldemort—he can handle asking Malfoy out for a drink. Harry wipes his sweaty palms against his trousers and steps inside.

The comforting warmth of the shop helps calm Harry’s jittery nerves and he moves towards the front desk with renewed confidence. Malfoy is busy labeling a stack of books, chewing his bottom lip as he concentrates. He’s wearing a dark green button up, the rich pine colour contrasting beautifully with his pale skin. His hair falls softly in front of his face, feathery strands of pale sunshine cascading over elegant cheekbones. Malfoy lifts his head and tucks his hair behind his ear, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“Hello Potter.”

“Malfoy,” Harry returns warmly.

“Were you looking for anything in particular today?” 

_Just you._

“No.” Harry clears his throat nervously. “I was just stopping by to say hi.”

“Oh.” Malfoy’s smile widens. “Well, hello.”

“Uh, actually. I did want to ask you something.” Malfoy raises a questioning eyebrow and leans forward. “I was wondering if you wanted to maybe get a drink or something.” Malfoy’s eyes light up with interest and a faint flush covers his cheeks. Harry’s heart races with excitement until he sees Kyle emerge from the backroom. He has a cocky grin on his face as he sidles up to Malfoy and leans against his shoulder. Harry’s confidence drains away and he flushes in embarrassment. “Just as friends, of course.” Malfoy’s smile fades ever so slightly but he quickly recovers and nods his head in agreement.

“Sure, that sounds fine. I get off of work in an hour or so. We can meet outside and head to a pub together.”

“Which pub?” Kyle interjects, though he doesn’t seem overly jealous.

“Maybe the Leaky?” Harry shrugs, feeling awkward and wrong-footed.

“How boring.” Kyle rolls his eyes, pouting when Malfoy elbows him in the side. “What? It’s just so ordinary.” Kyle looks away from Harry and tugs on a loose strand of Malfoy’s hair. “Oh, Draco! We should stop by Erling’s Village next week. They’re going to have horse-drawn sleigh rides.”

“Sleigh rides?” Malfoy asks distastefully.

“Come on,” Kyle pleads. “It’ll be romantic.”

“I should get going.” Harry clenches his jaw and takes a step backwards.

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you later this evening.” Malfoy gives a little wave before returning his attention to Kyle. “There is no way I am getting into a sleigh.”

“But Draco—”

Harry blocks out the rest of the conversation and hurries out of the shop.


	11. Chapter 11

“Rather crowded for a week day,” Malfoy remarks as he slides into the booth beside Harry.

“Must be everyone out doing their holiday shopping,” Harry replies, wrapping his hands around his warm cup of mulled wine.

“Well, it’s certainly cozy in here.” Malfoy smirks into his own cup, bumping his shoulder against Harry’s.

Harry can’t even pretend to be disgruntled about the lack of space. He sighs happily and leans into the steady heat of Malfoy’s arm, taking a long sip from his drink. The wine is delicious and notes of cinnamon, cloves and orange dance along his tongue.

“So, how was work?”

“A little hectic but the day went by quickly. Kyle was being his usual obnoxious self, of course, but I kept him occupied with busy work.” Malfoy’s voice is fond and Harry’s stomach clenches with envy. “How about you?”

“Nothing too exciting,” Harry replies, happy to move away from the subject of Kyle. “Ron and I’ve only recently finished our Auror training, so they haven’t put us out in the field yet.”

“Really?” Malfoy asks, surprised. “I’d imagine they would have gladly fast tracked The Boy Who Lived.”

“No,” Harry mutters distastefully. “And I wouldn’t want to get assignments for that reason. The attention was bad enough right after the War. I couldn’t leave my flat for months.”

“Poor Potter,” Malfoy laughs. “It must be so tiring being a celebrity.”

“Don’t,” Harry warns, mood turning sour. “It’s not exactly all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Sorry,” Malfoy replies sincerely. “I was just teasing. I remember how frustrating Eighth year was for you, what with all the fawning and stalking.”

“And the love potions,” Harry adds wryly.

“Do you remember when Brooks messed up that potion and Professor Flitwick ate those chocolates by accident?”

“Oh Merlin, yes,” Harry snorts. “We caught him reciting love poems to all the suits of armor in the castle.”

“Classic,” Malfoy laughs loudly. He lifts his drink and downs the rest in one go. “Shall I get us another round?”

“Sure.”

Harry most definitely does _not_ stare at Malfoy’s arse as he gets up and walks towards the bar. He certainly doesn’t take a sniff of Malfoy’s hair when he slides back into their booth and a wayward strand brushes against Harry’s face. Although, if he did, Malfoy’s hair probably smells like vanilla and fresh snow.

“Cheers.” 

Malfoy clicks his glass against Harry’s before taking a long, slow sip. Drops of burgundy cling to his lips and his pink tongue darts out to catch the remnants of wine. Harry forces himself to look away. 

They continue to drink and chat and drink some more until Harry can safely admit he’s a little drunk. Unlike the spinning, unsteady feeling he gets from strong cocktails at the club, however, he feels warm and comfortable. A steady buzz resonates throughout his body and he becomes more bold, purposely knocking their knees together under the table. Malfoy returns the affectionate gestures, squeezing Harry’s thigh when he laughs and pressing his leg against Harry’s. He brushes back unruly curls that fall into Harry’s face, slowly pulling his hand back and allowing his fingers to linger a moment too long as they skate across his cheek. Harry feels flushed and happy, having more fun than he’s had in a long time. The energy buzzing between the two of them is undeniable.

“Want to get out of here?” Malfoy mumbles into Harry’s ear, his breath warm against Harry’s neck. A thrill of anticipation runs down Harry’s spine.

“Sure.” Harry unsteadily stands up and offers his hand to Malfoy. “Let’s go.”


	12. Chapter 12

The night air is cold but the spiced wine in Harry’s belly keeps him warm, as does the firm pressure of Malfoy’s body against his. They walk arm in arm down the street, ice crunching loudly beneath their feet and their breath escaping their mouths in great misty clouds.

The shops are all closed now—doors locked and the windows dark and frosted. Ice creeps along the windowpanes, spreading out onto the glass in intricate designs. It’s all rather beautiful and Harry can’t imagine anyone else in the world he’d like be with right now other than Malfoy.

“It’s a lovely night, perfect for an evening stroll,” Harry sighs, frowning when Malfoy begins to laugh. “What?”

“Nothing,” Malfoy chuckles. “You just sounded so romantic and poetic.”

“Oh shut it,” Harry rebukes good-naturedly. 

“It _is_ nice out,” Malfoy admits, shivering. “Although just a bit cold and I’m rubbish at warming charms.”

“Here.” Harry grabs Malfoy’s hands and blows hot air onto them. He rubs them between his own and keeps them firmly covered.

“Thank you,” Malfoy says softly, flushing. “You could have just used your wand though.”

“Er, I suppose I could have,” Harry replies, embarrassed. He tries to pull his hand away but Malfoy keeps a strong grip on it, adjusting their hands until their fingers intertwine.

“It’s fine.” Malfoy’s cheeks flame red and he looks straight ahead.

They continue to walk in silence, the only noise the thrum of the streetlamps and the creaking of tree limbs as the winter wind blows past. They are nearly to Malfoy’s street when he stops and turns to face Harry.

“I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Yeah, me too,” Harry replies, caught in Malfoy’s piercing gaze. He looks so gorgeous, lit up by moonlight and as pale as winter snow. The only colour on his face is the faint pink on his wind-kissed nose and the blooms of heat staining his cheeks. Harry is overcome with desire, overwhelmed with the need to grab Malfoy and devour him whole. He so badly wants to kiss him, his foggy head buzzes with the urge, but he forces himself to hold back. Malfoy has a boyfriend, even if the man seems like an obnoxious prat. Who is Harry to take advantage of their new, delicate friendship, especially when Malfoy is drunk? “Well, get home safe.”

“You aren’t going to walk me to the door?” Malfoy asks coyly.

_Yes, Merlin, yes._ Harry wants to walk him to the door and then shove him against it. He imagines pressing himself against Malfoy’s body, licking and biting his way into Malfoy’s hot mouth, and shamelessly grinding their cocks together until they’re both coming in their pants. _Fuck._

“No, I better head home.”

“Alright,” Malfoy says slowly. His eyes flash with hurt and confusion before swiftly clearing and becoming blank. “Thanks for the drink.”

Malfoy turns around tightly and hurries away. Harry stands in the cold air for a moment longer as he watches Malfoy’s stiff back disappear into the dark of night.


	13. Chapter 13

“Come on. I’ve only got half of my list checked off.”

“But ‘Mione,” Harry complains. “We’ve been shopping for hours.”

“Oh, it hasn’t been _that_ long,” Hermione retorts, pushing through the crowd. “I still have to find something for Ron.”

“Well, that should be easy enough.”

“You would think so,” Hermione sighs. “I wanted to bake him something, like a nice holiday cake, but I can’t find a proper recipe.”

“Why don’t you just ask Molly?” Harry dodges a flustered mother as she chases after her wayward child. “She makes a really delicious yule log cake with the best chocolate buttercream.” Harry’s mouth waters at the thought.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Hermione aggressively shakes her head. “I went over the Burrow a few months back for a little baking instruction. Let’s just say several hours and a lot of frustration later, I decided cooking wasn’t my thing. Well, she decided for me. Things were tense for weeks after that. I don’t fancy a repeat performance.”

“Yeah, forget that.” Harry chuckles ruefully.

“Oh!” Hermione brightens. “But maybe I could get a recipe book at that new bookshop. Should we stop by?”

“No.” Harry shrugs his shoulders dejectedly. “Malfoy’s not working today.”

“Huh,” Hermione says coyly. “I didn’t realise the shop closed down when Malfoy isn’t there.”

“Er, never mind,” Harry replies, flustered.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione remarks fondly, looping her arm around Harry’s. “Come on, let’s keep shopping.”


	14. Chapter 14

Harry stares at the cufflinks, golden and glittering as the light in his room shines off them. The little snitch details are intricate and well crafted—certainly worth the money he spent—but Harry can’t help but feel a bit foolish all the same. What was he thinking getting Malfoy a Christmas present? It was an impulse buy, that’s for sure. The golden cufflinks just called out to him and he couldn’t help himself from adding them to his pile of purchases.

He closes the box and sets it on his nightstand but his mind wanders back to the cufflinks all the same. He can just picture them adorning one of Malfoy’s fancy, pressed button ups. He imagines how the golden snitches would look against Malfoy’s delicate wrists, right next to his warm hands and slender fingers. Malfoy has lovely hands, gorgeous long limbs and perfect skin. Harry’s been lucky enough to get a glimpse of those lithe muscles in the showers after Quidditch matches and suddenly his mind is drowning with the image of a wet, naked Malfoy. 

His chest tightens and sparks of arousal spread through him like Christmas crackers exploding in his stomach. His cock begins to swell but Harry does his best to clear his mind of such thoughts. A cold shower would likely help.

Harry climbs into the shower, but it’s far too frigid out for cold water after all and he steps under the nice, hot stream. The water beats against his flesh, heating up his skin and steaming up the bathroom. It feels nice and Harry relaxes under the warm pressure of the shower. His mind, however, is relentless and soon he’s bombarded with thoughts of Malfoy again. 

He wishes he were braver back in school, that he didn’t sweep that kiss under the rug and approached Malfoy about it. He wishes he gave in to his desires while Malfoy was still available, while he was still so close Harry needed only to reach out to grab him.

All those months of awkward greetings and nods of acknowledgement could have been better spent in the Quidditch showers, with wet bodies and eager hands. Harry’s prick begs for attention and he curls his fingers around his growing erection and gives it a pull.

What he wouldn’t give to have Malfoy here with him now, on his knees with his mouth wide open. Harry would guide his cock between Malfoy’s lips, tangle his hands into Malfoy’s damp hair and rock his hips back and forth. Malfoy’s mouth would be wet and hot, his tongue pliable and talented. Harry bites back a groan and continues to pump his cock.

Harry bets Malfoy gives great blowjobs. Malfoy would likely uses his one hand to carefully roll Harry’s bollocks and the other to slip between his crack. Malfoy would swallow Harry’s prick with sloppy enthusiasm, hollowing his cheeks and gently scraping his teeth along Harry’s shaft. Harry’s breath stutters as he strokes himself faster.

Malfoy’s fingers would circle his hole and tease the sensitive rim. He’d pull his mouth away and murmur against Harry’s slick cock, make promises of bending Harry over and fucking him hard. Malfoy would assure Harry that he’d feel him the next day, with every step he took Harry would feel the throbbing ache in his arse and know that Malfoy did that to him.

Harry’s balls draw up and his hand becomes a blur over his leaking cock. He reaches back and presses his finger against his hole, the tip just breaching inside. Harry gasps as his orgasm is dragged from him, his arse clenching against his fingertip as his prick spurts come along the shower tiles.

Harry leans his head against the shower wall, sighing heavily as the waves of pleasure wind down. He watches the water wash his release down the drain and wishes his feelings could be wiped away just as easily.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry pushes open the door to the teashop and is instantly greeted by the most inviting aromas. Warm spices, floral sweetness and rich toffee waft towards him and he breathes in the delectable scents. He spots Malfoy right away, sitting at a small table by the window, his bright hair shining out like a beacon.

“Potter.” Malfoy’s eyes light up as Harry takes a seat. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Harry replies amiably. 

Honestly, Harry was a bit torn when he received the owl from Malfoy the other day. Of course he _wanted_ to meet up with Malfoy—desperately so—but, with his feelings running so rampant, he wasn’t certain it was a good idea. Eventually, desire won over reason. Besides, Harry does have _some_ amount of self control. He loves spending time with Malfoy and he’s loathe to ruin their budding friendship due to his wayward urges and rising emotions.

“What can I get you boys?” A young witch with bouncy dark curls and bright red lips appears at their table and interrupts Harry from his thoughts.

“I’ll take a darjeeling tea with some lemon on the side.”

“Oh, hm.” Harry chews his lip. “I’ll have an earl grey, with lots of sugar.”

“Would you like that on the side or shall we add it in for you?” The witch’s quill hovers over her notepad.

“Uh.” Harry considers for a moment. “Both, please.”

“Merlin.” Malfoy chuckles softly. “Miss?” The witch turns around with a raised eyebrow. “We’ll take some shortbread biscuits as well.” The witch nods and hurries off and Malfoy turns his attention back to Harry. “Still have quite the sweet tooth, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Harry admits, blushing. He restlessly toys with the edge of the lacy tablecloth. “So, how have you been?”

“I’ve been well. Working plenty of extra shifts now that the holiday is nearly upon us.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods his head. “It was madness even getting here. The streets are packed.”

“‘Tis the season.” Malfoy gratefully accepts his cup of tea as the waitress sets it down. “I wanted to thank you again for taking me out for a drink the other night. I had a really good time.”

“It was my pleasure,” Harry replies sincerely, warming his hands against his steaming cup of tea.

“To be honest, I was a little nervous coming back to England,” Malfoy admits, staring down at the table.

“Why?”

“I know most of the more radical Malfoy hate had died down by the end of Eighth year, but I wasn’t entirely sure how well received my return would be.” Malfoy takes a long sip from his teacup before continuing. “It was part of the reason why I left right after graduation to travel.”

“Oh?” Harry urges on.

“It was difficult to stay in England, all the terrible memories and haunting nightmares at every turn. More than that, though, was all the guilt and remorse over my actions and the pain they caused.”

“You can’t blame yourself for everything, Malfoy.” Harry leans forward and speaks softly. “You were a boy and you were scared and trying to protect your family.”

“I was a coward,” Malfoy mutters bitterly. “I was ignorant and weak and made every wrong choice possible.”

“Not every wrong choice,” Harry says fiercely. “You saved my life more than once.”

“I think you’ve got that the other way around,” Malfoy responds dryly.

“No,” Harry asserts. “You didn’t identify me at the Manor and later you wouldn’t let your friends kill me even though, admittedly, you were terrified.”

“And then you saved me from the flames.” Malfoy’s eyes turn dark and haunted. “I still have nightmares about that night.”

“Me too,” Harry admits.

“I was so reluctant to come back to Hogwarts for Eighth year.” Malfoy nervously toys with a shortbread biscuit, breaking it into several pieces. “Mother insisted.”

“I’m glad she did.” Harry reaches to grab his own biscuit, dipping it into his tea before taking a large bite.

“Yeah, me too.” Malfoy smiles softly. “It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was rather painful and awkward for some time, but in the end it was worth it.” Malfoy looks up, locking eyes with Harry, his face shining with sincerity. “I never really thanked you.”

“For what?” Harry asks around a mouthful of crumbs.

“For your friendship back then.” Malfoy’s cheeks turn pink. “It really meant a lot to me. Even if it was part of your whole hero complex.”

“It was not! Besides, I don’t have a hero complex,” Harry grumbles, ignoring Malfoy’s disbelieving raised eyebrow. “You had changed. Or maybe I just started to finally see what was there all along.”

“You mean after I stopped being such a prat all the time?”

“Yeah, basically.” Harry chuckles before sobering up. “Listen, I forgave you a long time ago. I think at some point, you just have to forgive yourself.”

“Maybe,” Malfoy says softly. His hand reaches out, soft and warm as his thumb brushes against Harry’s lower lip and chin. Harry’s breath catches in his throat and he clenches his hands into fists beneath the table. “Sorry.” Malfoy’s face turns bright red. “You had some crumbs on your face.”

“Oh.” Harry returns Malfoy’s intense blush, scrubbing at his face. His skin tingles where Malfoy’s fingers touched him. “Did I get it?”

“Yes.” Malfoy smiles fondly. “Anyway, my shift is just about to start. I better get to work.”

“Okay,” Harry watches Malfoy rise, his head still in a daze from Malfoy’s simple touch.

“I hope to see you soon…” Malfoy’s words trail off and he swallows nervously before continuing. “...Harry.”

Malfoy hurries out the teashop and the bells on the door ring gently as he closes it behind him. Pleasant flames of warmth and happiness erupt in Harry’s chest and he grins into his teacup.

_Harry._


	16. Chapter 16

The clock in their shared office ticks so slowly it nearly seems like it’s moving backwards. Harry sighs under his breath, grabbing a stack of paperwork from the filing cabinet and dropping it on Ron’s desk. Ron looks at the pile disdainfully before poking at it with his wand. They work in relative silence for a several minutes before Ron’s fidgeting gradually increases and he opens his mouth.

“So… you and Malfoy, huh?”

“What?” Harry sputters. “Ugh, not you too!”

“Hey, blame Hermione.” Ron throws his hands in the air. “Pillow talk, you know?”

“Wait.” Harry raises an eyebrow. “You and Hermione talk about Malfoy in bed?”

“Oh, shove off.” Ron scowls playfully. “But, seriously mate. If you need to talk or anything—just, please, not too many details.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Listen, Hermione says I need to be supportive.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Ron.” Harry inhales sharply and exhales slowly. “But there’s nothing to share. We’re just friends, that’s all.”

“I don’t buy that for a second,” Ron snorts. 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on.” Ron leans back in his chair, propping his feet onto the desk. “I’ve seen all the looks you two exchanged. For years, really. You were obsessed with him during Sixth year, couldn’t keep your eyes off him.”

“I hated him,” Harry asserts.

“Yeah.” Ron rolls his eyes. “Potato, patato.”

“And he hated me,” Harry continues.

“Oh please,” Ron scoffs. “He was just as obsessed as you were. Like children in a junior Quidditch park, pulling hair and calling each other names.”

“Ron.” Harry crosses his arms.

“What?” Ron smirks smugly. “Come Eighth year he could hardly hide it anymore. His eyes followed you everywhere, all wide and hopeful.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Harry shakes his head in mock frustration. 

“I don’t think so. I’m just not as dense as everyone always believes me to be. There’s a difference between ignorance and willful obliviousness.”

“You never cease to surprise me mate.” Harry laughs warmly.

“Hermione says the same thing.” Ron’s smile fades and he looks at Harry earnesty. “Listen, Harry. I know you’re not asking for it, but if you want my advice, I say just go for it. What do you have to lose? It’s worth a shot.”

“You really think so?”

“Sure,” Ron stands up and stretches. “At the very least, I won’t have to deal with all your moping and pining anymore.”

“Git.” Harry laughs, balling up a memo and throwing it at Ron.

“Come on.” Ron walks over and throws an arm around Harry. “It’s nearly time for lunch and I hear they have a cart outside selling mincemeat pies.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the filler chapter today. I promise the good stuff is coming!

Harry sighs heavily, hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt before tossing it onto the bed. The crimson fabric flutters, landing atop a pile of discarded button ups. He must have tried on several outfits now, each one too formal or too casual or too colourful or too bland. Merlin, he’s not even dressing for their potential date—just finding the proper attire to ask Malfoy out in.

Despite the nerves racing under his skin, Harry can’t deny the rush of excitement and anticipation flooding his chest. His heart swells with joy, bright and vivid, as he pictures Malfoy and himself having an intimate dinner together.

The wrist cuffs still rest on his bedside table and Harry’s stomach clenches at the thought of giving the gift to Malfoy, imagining his reaction to them. But first, he has to gather the courage to ask him out.

Harry finally settles on a crisp lavender button up underneath a navy jumper. He fastens the belt on his trousers, laces his shoes and heads out the door.

He’s a Gryffindor, he can handle this.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry’s eyes skate over the book display by the front desk as he nervously waits for Malfoy to finish with a customer. His gaze settles on a book titled _Sightseeing in Muggle London_ with a classic photo of The London Bridge on the glossy cover. He considers picking it up and flipping through it—anything to hide the shaking of his hands—when Malfoy comes over.

“Potter.” Harry feels a twinge of longing as he recalls Malfoy using his first name, wishing he would do so again. “Back again?”

“What can I say? I love books.” _Smooth, Harry, real smooth._

“Evidently,” Malfoy teases.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?” Malfoy leans forward, resting his arms along the desk. Harry’s heart stutters at the vivid grey of his eyes and the open expression on his face. 

“Um.” Harry steels his nerves. “Well, I thought since we had such a good time getting drinks the other week maybe we could get together again.”

“Sure,” Malfoy agrees. “Which pub were you thinking of?”

“I was actually thinking we could do dinner instead.” 

“Oh.” Malfoy looks surprised but not unpleasantly so.

“As long as Kyle’s okay with it, of course,” Harry rushes out. A knife of guilt stabs at his stomach. As much as he wants Malfoy, he can’t deny there is something decidedly wrong about asking another man’s boyfriend out on a date. Still, it’s not like he’s going throw himself at Malfoy. Harry just wants the opportunity to be open about his feelings.

“Kyle?” Malfoy’s brow furrows in confusion. “Yeah, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Great.” Relief washes over Harry. “Tomorrow night then?”

“Okay.” Malfoy’s lips curl into a smile.

“I’ll owl you the address,” Harry hurriedly says, walking backwards and nearly into the calendar display. He’s certain if he stays there a moment longer his chest will explode with excitement and anticipation.

The gust of cold air on the street doesn’t even touch Harry’s flushed skin as he happily makes his way home.


	19. Chapter 19

“Would you gentlemen like sparkling or still water?”

“Um, regular?” Harry replies uncertainly. The waiter merely raises an eyebrow.

“Still water is fine,” Malfoy jumps in, playfully rolling his eyes at Harry. The waiter nods and walks away. “Quite the establishment you picked out for tonight.”

“I heard really great reviews from this place.” Harry had asked around for a romantic restaurant, something that would impress Malfoy. He didn’t realise it was _this_ fancy. The amount of silverware on the table is utterly terrifying.

“Well, Potter,” Malfoy remarks, lifting a crystal wine glass for closer inspection. “I must say I approve.”

“Harry.” Malfoy lifts his gaze, a questioning look on his face. “Call me Harry.”

“Alright, _Harry_.” Malfoy smiles coyly. “Does that mean you should call me Draco?”

“If you’d like.” Harry’s stomach flips at the thought.

“Sure,” Malfoy replies casually, though his cheeks turn slightly pink.

The waiter returns with their bottle of water and convinces them both to order the special holiday sampler menu. Harry easily agrees and is content to let Malfoy—no, Draco—take control and choose the wine.

“This is good.” Harry takes a generous sip from his wine glass.

“Of course it is,” Draco replies cockily. “It’s a very rare vintage. Full bodied, lots of cherries and plums with a smoky, earthy finish.”

“Yes,” Harry agrees, a bit lost. “Very fruity.”

By the time the first course arrives, a roasted chestnut soup, Harry already has a gentle buzz and feels warm and relaxed. Draco seems happy as well, pleasantly flushed and thoroughly enjoying lecturing Harry about fine foods and wine pairing.

The second course—an arugula, walnut and cranberry salad—is refreshing and full of inviting textures, but Harry’s focus is entirely on Draco. He’s sharing a story about a cafe in Paris and the best pastries he’s ever tasted. Draco’s face lights up as he recalls the many varieties and the stomach ache— _completely worth it_ he insists—he endured after leaving the cafe.

Draco moans around his first bite of the third course, wild mushroom ravioli, and the sound goes directly to Harry’s groin. Draco’s lips are shiny with butter and his tongue darts out to wipe them clean. Harry doesn’t really recall much about the story of Draco’s first day of work that he shares during their third course.

The main course arrives, almond-crusted salmon in a white wine mustard sauce served over grilled asparagus. Draco delicately cuts into his food, listening with interest as Harry tells him about Auror training and how tedious his job can be. He nods his head sympathetically as Harry complains about the piles of paperwork and the forever-burnt coffee in the break room.

They’ve finished their second bottle of wine when the final course appears, two servings of flaming plum pudding. Draco’s eyes light up with delight as he stares at the dessert and Harry can’t help but think how young he suddenly looks. Harry is reminded of the expression on Draco’s face when he would receive a box of sweets from home. His eyes would shine with excitement, his gaze fixed on the assortment of fancy chocolates. Harry takes a bite of the pudding and closes his eyes in contentment. A satisfied groan escapes his lips as the sticky sweetness coats his mouth. When he opens his eyes Draco is staring at him with an intense expression on his face.

“You seem to be enjoying your dessert,” Draco remarks, his voice deep and low.

“It’s really good,” Harry responds. “Try some.”

Draco smiles deviously before taking a bite. His lips wrap around the spoon slowly, fluttering his eyes shut in bliss. He moans blissfully, obscenely licking the spoon clean of all the leftover sticky filling. Harry cock stirs in his trousers.

“You’re right.” Draco’s eyes blink open. “It’s delicious.”

Harry takes one more large bite, a massive swig of water and then turns towards the waiter.

“Check, please!”


	20. Chapter 20

It’s a perfectly clear evening and the stars shine brightly in the night sky like diamonds against crushed velvet. The moon glows vividly, lighting a clear path as they walk through a nearby park. 

“That was maybe the best meal I’ve ever had,” Draco remarks happily, leaning into Harry as a gust of cold wind blows past them.

“It was pretty good,” Harry agrees.

“Pretty good?” Draco scoffs. “The food was delicious, the wine exquisite and the company divine.”

“Well, thank you.” Harry blushes.

“I was talking about myself, of course,” Draco teases.

“Git.” Harry chuckles, lightly pushing at Draco’s shoulder.

“Wow, that’s beautiful.” Harry follows Draco’s gaze, his eyes landing on a gorgeous frozen pond. The ice has a light layer of snow sprinkled here and there, sparkling in the light of the moon. “I haven’t gone ice skating in years.”

“Well, sadly you won’t be skating tonight.”

“Why not?” Draco pouts.

“Because,” Harry sputters. “Well, we don’t even have ice-skates.”

“You are a Wizard, aren’t you?” Draco rolls his eyes and pulls out his wand, transfiguring his and Harry’s shoes into skates. He stomps over to the pond and holds out a hand to Harry. “Come on.”

“I think I’ll just watch from over here.”

“Where’s your Gryffindor bravery? The ice is thick, it’s not going to crack.”

“It’s not that…” Harry trails off, looking down embarrassedly. “I don’t know how to skate.”

“Oh.” A delighted expression crosses over Draco’s face. “Well, I’ll just have to teach you.”

Harry grabs Draco’s hand, allowing him to pull Harry onto the ice. Harry holds on tightly as he slides onto the surface, his feet feeling as if they will give out any moment.

“I’m not sure about this,” Harry says nervously.

“You’ll be fine.” Draco pulls Harry slowly over the ice. “So you can battle dark wizards, swim underwater for hours and fly your broom beautifully but you can’t ice-skate, huh?”

“You think I fly beautifully?” Harry teases even as he flushes at the compliment.

“Oh, shut it.” Draco’s ears turn a lovely shade of pink.

They must spend at least twenty minutes out there, slowly gliding together on the slippery surface and speaking closely in hushed voices. Want and desire surge through Harry and he brims with the urge to confess all his feelings then and there.

“Come on, I’m getting cold.” Draco pulls Harry carefully off the ice, transfiguring their skates back into shoes.

Harry goes to take a step, but his feet are not yet accustomed to being on solid ground and he trips. Draco’s reflexes are quick and he catches Harry in an instant. Harry’s heart pounds as he looks up. His chest is pressed against Draco’s, the warmth of his body seeping through his heavy robes. Draco’s face is so close, his lips a mere inch away.

Harry takes a deep breath and leans in.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry feels as if he’s being transported back in time. Draco’s lips are as soft as they were two years ago, his mouth as warm and pliable as before. Draco makes a startled noise in his throat but he positively melts into the kiss, returning Harry’s firm pressure with fervour. 

Blood rushes through Harry’s ears and his skin tingles with sensation. It feels like a dream, standing on this deserted snowy road, arms wrapped around Draco as Harry licks his way into his mouth. Draco tastes like tart cherries and sweet pudding, delectable and utterly edible. Harry tangles his hand into Draco’s hair, the silky strands sliding between his fingers. Harry’s fingernails scrape against Draco’s scalp and Draco moans into the kiss, sliding his thigh between Harry’s legs. Harry’s cock throbs in his trousers, filling and thickening, as he presses himself against Draco.

Reality crashes in and Harry pulls back with effort, gasping heavily into the night air.

“What—” Draco looks delightfully disheveled. His lips are swollen, his hair mussed and his chest rapidly rises and falls as he regains his breath.

“I’m so sorry, Draco.” Harry’s heart sinks to his stomach. “I can’t do this.”


	22. Chapter 22

“What are you talking about? I want you and it seems like you want me too."

“I do,” Harry agrees. Of course he wants Draco, he wants him more than anything else. Merlin, it’s all he’s thought about for weeks. But this—this is wrong. “But what about Kyle?”

“What _about_ Kyle?”

“How can you be so blasé about cheating on your boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend?” Draco asks incredulously before bursting into laugher. “Oh Merlin, _Kyle_? _My boyfriend_?”

“I wish you wouldn’t laugh at me,” Harry grumbles as Draco wipes tears from his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Draco composes himself. “Kyle is _not_ my boyfriend.”

“He’s not?” Harry’s brow furrows in confusion. “But you two seems so close and he’s always all over you.”

“That’s just how he is,” Draco remarks dismissively. “He’s super friendly with everyone and an incorrigible flirt. But trust me, I’m not his type.”

“But isn’t he—“

“Oh yes, he certainly is, but I’m still not even close to what he wants. Let’s just say he’s been trying to get me to set him up with Goyle for ages.”

“Goyle? Really?”

“Yeah, he’s into more of the burly type.”

“Oh.” Harry feels embarrassment and relief fight for attention. He tries to meet Draco’s eyes but fails, choosing instead to look past him and focus on a holly bush covered in snow.

“You thought I was dating Kyle?” Draco asks. “And you still asked me out on a romantic date?”

“Well,” Harry stutters. “Yes, I—I didn’t plan on kissing you! I just hoped I’d be able to confess my feelings and get it all out there.”

“So, Harry.” Draco laughs softly, leaning in and capturing Harry's lips into another kiss. His tongue lightly touches Harry’s before he slowly pulls back. “What _are_ you feeling?”

“Like we should get out of here and go back to mine.”

“I agree.”

Draco’s lips meet his again and Harry wraps his arms around him, Apparating them both to his flat.


	23. Chapter 23

They stumble into the living room, lips still locked and hands roaming over each other’s bodies. Harry reluctantly takes a step back, gasping for air as he scrambles to remove his robe. Draco follows suit, undoing the intricate clasps to his cloak and tossing it onto the couch. 

The flat is cold and Harry shivers now that he’s not soaking up Draco’s body heat. He grabs his wand and quickly spells the fireplace, great flames erupting from the grates. Draco’s glances at the roaring fire, his eyes then sliding over to the heavily adorned Christmas tree in the corner.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Draco smiles smugly. “Were you planning on making love in front of the fire?”

“Actually.” Harry pulls Draco closer and whispers hotly in his ear. “I was thinking you could fuck me in the bedroom.”

“Merlin,” Draco groans lowly as Harry tugs him towards the bedroom.

They shed their remaining clothing between hot, wet kisses and rough caresses. Harry’s heart pounds as he stares at Draco. He looks divine. Lit only by the light of the moon, his pale hair shines nearly silver and his alabaster skin positively glows. He’s even more gorgeous than in Harry’s fantasies. This Draco, standing before him, is real. His chest rises and falls with short, eager breaths and his thick cock is flushed and hard, vivid against his pale thigh. Harry steps forward, his stomach twisting as his fingertips slowly trace the thin scars crisscrossing his chest.

“I did this,” Harry says mournfully, placing soft kisses along the raises lines.

“Harry,” Draco utters, his voice pleading and urgent. Harry’s hands move down the sides of Draco’s body, settling on his hips. “Harry.” Draco rocks forward, inhaling sharply when their erections slide together. Harry’s thumbs rest on either side of Draco’s groin, rubbing gently against the sensitive skin. “Harry!”

Draco scoops Harry into his arms, his mouth attacking Harry’s neck as he tosses him onto the bed. Draco leaves biting bruises along his throat and collarbone, the pleasurable pain sending bolts of need directly to Harry's desperate cock. Draco’s fine hair tickles, brushing against Harry’s abdomen as Draco slides down his body.

“What do you want?” Draco asks against his stomach, his chest brushing against Harry’s leaking prick.

“You,” Harry exhales, looking down at Draco through lowered lashes.

“Oh, you’ll have me,” Draco promises, moving lower and pressing a biting kiss against his hip bone.

“Draco,” Harry pleads, his hips rising off the bed.

Draco chuckles softly, a gust of hot air washing over Harry’s trembling cock. He’s so turned on, so ready to burst at the slightest touch. Draco must sense this, because he only pauses at Harry’s prick for a moment, lips brushing against the swollen head. Harry whines in frustration but Draco merely darts his tongue out to lick the bead of pre-come collecting at the tip before moving away.

“You want me to fuck you?” Draco asks roughly.

“Yes.” Harry’s cock throbs at the thought. 

“Should I get you nice and wet for me first?” Draco asks, moving Harry’s legs over Draco’s shoulders and spreading his arse cheeks apart.

Merlin. Harry has no words—no comprehensible ones at least—as Draco’s mouths at his heavy bollocks. Draco moves lower, a searching tongue circling his rim, and Harry arches, fisting the sheets between his fingers. He’s a panting mess, shivering and trembling as Draco sloppily licks and sucks at his quivering hole. All Harry can feel is the wet slide of his tongue, the electric brush of his lips, the sparks of sensation that travel up his spine. Draco’s finger presses against his entrance and Harry’s arse greedily swallows the digit.

“More,” Harry gasps.

Draco complies, adding another finger and scissoring the two in such a perfect harmony that Harry’s body heats with the symphony of sensations. He rocks against Draco’s skilled fingers, his cock leaking steadily against his stomach. Harry feels bereft when the fingers disappear but he’s soon placated by the blunt pressure of Draco’s cock lining up against his hole.

“Harry,” Draco murmurs, almost worshipfully, as he pushes inside.

Harry is overcome, surrounded by pressing heat and pleasurable pain. His arse aches as Draco thrusts inside, his passage burning with the stretch from Draco’s thick cock. It feels incredible. Harry’s eyes flutter open and he’s left breathless with the sight above him. Draco’s beautiful hair sticks to his sweat-dampened temple, his chest is flushed with desire and he’s looking down at Harry with searching, intense grey eyes. Harry’s hand reaches out to cup Draco’s jaw, tenderly tracing his elegant cheekbone even as Draco pounds into him with increasing fervour. Harry’s thumb presses against Draco’s lower lip and Draco opens his mouth, sucking the digit inside. Harry moans at the gesture, his cock throbbing in time with the hot pressure of Draco’s tongue against his thumb.

“Harder,” Harry utters, rocking back into Draco’s thrusts.

Draco lifts Harry’s hips off the bed, driving into him with renewed force. It’s too much and it’s not enough and Harry’s arse aches with the glorious pleasure of it all. Draco adjusts his angle and Harry sees stars. His orgasm rushes from him unexpectedly and Harry comes, untouched, spurting sticky seed between their bodies.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco cries, fucking him for all he’s worth. “You’re so hot, you feel so good. I wanted you so badly, for so damn long.”

“Yes, yes,” Harry murmurs hazily, body loose in his post-orgasmic state.

Draco’s hips still and Harry’s spent prick twitches as Draco’s cock throbs, spilling his release deep inside of Harry. His face is flushed, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as he gasps and moans. Harry’s not certain he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

Draco takes his time to recover, resting his damp forehead against Harry’s cheek as he slowly comes down. He pulls out slowly with a slight cringe, his sensitive cock dragging against Harry’s sore arse. Harry sleepily reaches out for his wand, casting a hasty cleaning spell over both of them.

“Stay the night?” Harry asks, his voice rough and hopeful.

Draco nods in reply, a warm sated expression across his face. Harry smiles in return, tossing the covers over them before curling against Draco’s side. He falls asleep to the warmth of Draco’s body and the steady sound of his breathing.


	24. Chapter 24

The morning sun filters in through the window casting rays of light across Harry’s face. He blearily blinks open his eyes, adjusting to the golden glow that fills his bedroom. Harry reaches out his hand, his heart clenching when, instead of a warm body, his fingers only grasp cool sheets.

Did Draco leave after he fell asleep? Perhaps he snuck out in the morning before Harry woke up. He’s already mentally and emotionally preparing himself for the idea that Draco ran off when he hears footsteps outside the hallway.

“Really Harry, don’t you have any jam that hasn’t expired yet? I didn’t even know jam could go bad.”

“Draco.” Harry’s heart swells at the sight of Draco standing in the doorway. He’s shirtless, only wearing a pair of—oh Merlin, _Harry's_ —pajama bottoms. “Are you making me breakfast?”

“I’m making you toast,” Draco huffs. “Which would be easier if you had anything to put on it.”

“Come here.” Harry grins.

Draco rolls his eyes but complies, climbing into bed and draping himself over Harry’s body. Harry kisses him slowly and purposely, rising his hips to grind his morning erection against Draco’s thickening cock.

“Mmm, good morning,” Draco murmurs against Harry’s lips.

“Indeed,” Harry agrees, wrapping his arms around Draco’s torso and flipping them over.

Draco laughs breathlessly, his eyes dark with desire as they meet Harry’s. Harry plunders his mouth again, pinning Draco down against the bed. Draco looks an absolute tempting sight; his usual perfect hair is sleep-mussed, his lips wet and swollen and his bare chest flushed. Harry wants to keep him there, hard and helpless, tied down to his bed. In fact…

“Accio Gryffindor tie.” The silky material flies from his closet and lands in the palm of his outstretched hand.

“Really, Potter?” Draco raises an eyebrow. “Of course you’d still hang onto your school uniform.”

“Harry,” he reminds, grabbing Draco’s arms and pulling them above his head. He deftly wraps the tie around Draco’s wrist, securing the end to his headboard.

“Harry,” Draco repeats in a low, gravely voice. The sound goes directly to Harry’s cock and it twitches in his pants.

“You look good like this,” Harry growls licking a hot, wet path down his throat and towards his chest.

Draco groans, testing the strength of his restraints and arching his hips off the bed. His prick is vivid beneath his pyjama pants, a long thick line straining against the fabric.

“Come on, Harry,” Draco pleads.

“I like having you at my mercy.” Harry’s tongue flicks at Draco’s nipple, placing open-mouth hot kisses down his stomach. “Unable to move and laid out like a perfect present. Just for me.”

“Please,” Draco begs as Harry moves lower and nips at his exposed hip bone.

“What do you want, Draco?” Harry asks coyly, teasing his thumbs beneath the waistband.

“Suck me,” Draco says huskily and Harry’s cock pulses at the command.

Harry pulls the pyjama bottoms down and off, tossing them carelessly on the ground. Draco’s cock is flushed and swollen, straining towards the ceiling. He looks divine, he looks delicious, he looks positively edible. Harry lowers his mouth, licking a few teasing swipes of his tongue against the tip before swallowing Draco down. Draco cries out, pulling against the tie as he arches towards Harry’s wet mouth.

Draco tastes like perfection—salty and hot, drops of sharp bitterness coating his tongue. He becomes lost in the sensation; drowning in the gorgeous sounds slipping from Draco’s lips, forever gone to the heavy weight of Draco’s cock on his tongue.

Draco’s crying out, rocking his hips with what little leverage he has. Harry can feel Draco’s thighs tensing against his shoulders and suddenly his mouth floods with Draco’s release. His cock throbs inside Harry’s mouth and Harry swallows every drop, relishing in the tart flavour as it slides down his throat.

Harry’s so aroused, so utterly turned on, it doesn’t surprise him when he comes right afterwards. He ruts against the mattress, warm wetness staining the sheets as he humps the bed with his mouth still wrapped around Draco’s waning erection. Draco whimpers softly as Harry pulls off his cock with a slick, wet pop.

Harry spells Draco’s hands loose, the tie releasing his wrists and fluttering onto the pillow. Draco rubs his wrists slightly, a pleased smile spread across his face. Draco stares at Harry dazedly, his expression open and warm. Harry flushes under his intense scrutiny.

“Harry, I think—“ Draco begins.

“Yes?” Harry asks breathlessly.

“I think the toast is burning.”

“Sod the toast.” Harry laughs heartily, climbing back up Draco’s body and pulling the covers over them. Draco’s lips meet his and Harry smiles into the kiss.


	25. epilogue

_epilogue_

“Come on,” Harry urges, leaning over to lace up his boots. “We’re going to be late.”

“Perfection can’t be rushed.” Draco fixes his hair carefully in the mirror, brushing a loose strand back.

“Stop stalling.” Harry rolls his eyes, shrugging on his cloak.

“Hey, you’re not the one about to enter a den full of wild Weasleys.” Draco frowns, fumbling with his cufflinks. “I have my safety to worry about, you know?”

“Molly invited you to Christmas dinner personally. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Draco scoffs in response but Harry can see the gleam of amusement in his eyes. He walks over and grabs Draco’s wrist, carefully fastening the golden snitches on his cuff. He smiles to himself, rubbing his thumb over the shiny surface. They look just as perfect on Draco as Harry had imagined and it fills his heart with joy to see Draco wearing them.

“Shall we go?” Draco pushes a stray curl from Harry’s face and tucks it behind his ear. His fingers linger, the tips trailing softly along his jaw and down his throat. His thumb presses against Harry’s rapidly beating pulse and he leans in to flick his tongue against the sensitive shell of his ear.

“Well…” Harry’s cock stirs and he leans into Draco’s touch. “I suppose we could be a little late.”

Draco’s answering grin is devious and Harry’s breath leaves him in a rushed exhale as Draco’s mouth latches onto his neck. Harry can already hear Hermione’s exasperated sigh, Ron’s groaning and Ginny’s teasing but he can hardly bring himself to care. Draco grabs him by the waist and drags him into the bedroom, eyes alight with mischief.

Something tells Harry it’ll be worth it, all will most definitely be well. 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Kudos/Comments = <3
> 
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